Author: Grae

I find myself wanting to say so much I know won’t matter anymore. What use is there in telling you when we’re done?

What prompted me to write this blog post was the realization that tears were falling down the sides of my eyes as I lay down staring at my dark ceiling. I caught myself remembering our first few months together when we’d laugh and forget about the time when we talked, the way you laughed when I said something funny, and the way you used to make me feel. And as I type this I can feel cold streams of tears against my warm cheeks. Despite all that, I know you haven’t cared enough to check this blog for a long while and there’s a slimmer chance you will in the future.

I never thought I would fall in love with you, honestly. As clichéd as it might be, I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone this much before. I know I’ve said that in the past, but now more so than ever does that statement ring clear for me. I always thought you would be my special friend, given our initial circumstances, and when I found myself falling for you I even attempted to make it a little awkward between us.

But it still happened, I fell for you and somehow you had already fallen for me. So we started the difficult task of being in a long distance relationship. You told me we would make it work, and I remember wanting to believe you so much. So much happened between then and now, it’s hard to believe it’s only been over a year and some.

We fell in love, we made it official, we fought and we made up, and we fought again. I know there is so much else to our relationship than that, but I can’t mention them all since I might need a lot more time and a bit larger a slice of the internet than I intend this post to occupy. We learned so much from each other and I’m happy it was you.

I guess what hurts me is that these past few days I’ve been receiving attention from guys, and it bothered me. I didn’t know why then, but I guess now I know I’m not comfortable with it since I’m still stuck loving you. Wow, I love you so much. I did, and I still do. God, this post will embarrass me in the future, but it hurts having to be apart from the person I love.

I gave you a lot; really, to some extent, I think I gave you everything. And I don’t regret any of that. But, Jesus Christ, does it hurt to remember that you let me slip away.

I allowed myself to feel so low for so long because I loved you, and I believed that I was the one that was too much, that I was the one that didn’t understand. I adjusted, and watched as you chose to move further away. You only ever seemed to pull me back with words and promises and “I love you”s when I was pulling away from you.

Then we broke up, for good that time. Two weeks later, you said you wanted to try again but you balked when I asked what it was you intend to do this time around. I remember you shouting at me, saying I was always too much.

I asked you to push through on visiting me so we could have a proper conversation. You came and we talked, and I hope you still remember the conversation we had. Before you left, we had agreed that we wouldn’t talk unless it was important anymore. I didn’t manage it one night and I called you in the middle of a storm. Then, I thought that was it.

You messaged me about burning photos you had given me some days after, but I didn’t reply. I joined Discord again, and shortly after you left the server. You made a fake account after to check on me. Wow. You messaged me on Telegram about the photos, even mentioning that you didn’t know why it was I wasn’t replying to your messages. Then came your apologetic message on Discord.

You realized you missed me. You realized you were bothering me because you missed me.

You wanted us to be best friends still, and I said yes. For two weeks, we talked but I held my ground. I knew what I wanted this time and I was not afraid of being called too much. You admitted it yourself, too. You realized I was the only constant in your life, and that you regret not putting more effort into the relationship. The sad part is, you only realized that after the relationship ended.

So, I told you when you were being unfair or misogynistic or anything else that bothers me. You pulled away this time because you realized that you couldn’t handle the feeling of wanting to please me.

Wow, why am I still here? You have always had this pattern of making big gestures when you’re in danger of losing me -or- when you’ve just lost me, and once you have me back you reset into not making any efforts again. Otherwise, you give up when I don’t budge.

So, wow, I’m reading back up and I’m confused. I started this post missing you, but I feel better after writing down our falling out.

I’ll clean this post up as an edit. I do need to conclusion before I fall asleep though. I am so sleepy now.

In retrospect, I don’t regret letting go of the relationship. You know what I gave you, but you didn’t appreciate that or reciprocate it during our relationship. There were constant apologies and rarely did you make up for them nor were there many improvements. You only tried when you were in danger of losing me, and you would even get mad when I didn’t take you back.

But I loved you, and I still do. Maybe that’s why I endured all that for so long. We’re here now, and I don’t want you back. At least not how it is, or how we are, right now. Maybe, just maybe, one day, we can try again.

You’ve ripped my trust up into tiny pieces that I’ll have to find and glue back. It’s hard to believe anything you say anymore and it hurts knowing I trusted you so much back then. Honestly, I find it hard to believe you’ll grow up. If you do, it likely won’t be for me but for a girl who will inspire you more than I ever did.

To quote a cliché Filipino mainstream, but classic, movie non verbatim, sana ako nalang ulit. But I know, it won’t be the best. Sana tayo nalang ulit, my heart says, but I guess I should let go and say goodbye.

Tl;dr: Mother forces this bogus “slimming tea” on me to lose weight, blows up when I refuse. She’s now hinting at not enrolling me this semester for going against her again.

The prelude: I’m 20 years old, and in premed. College is nearby so I live with my parents still. Now, as far as I can remember, I’ve been overweight. Only recently have I been trying to lose weight for my health. Being the only girl with four brothers, mother has always wanted to dress me up. Given that I’m overweight, she is frustrated at me. Sometimes she will go as far as pointing out that she’s ashamed of me and that my dad, whom she’s separated from, is at fault for my weight since since she thinks he wants to spite her.

She also doesn’t give me my allowance until just before I need it, and she only gives me enough for fare. This, I later learned, is another one of her control tactics so I don’t have the opportunity to save up any extra for things like going out with friends, or buying things for myself. She also likes to scold me for not being able to save, which is so bs since there isn’t any extra to save. I’m from the Philippines, so many of the go independent advice are difficult to pursue.

Last night: Mother had already been mad at the sibs and I cause it was a Sunday and we were blocking off God’s blessings by not going to church again. We didn’t budge, as usual, and she was serving her usual sermons of how other families’ kids go to church and she’s ashamed other people say she’s a bad mother for letting us go astray.

When her religious sermon died down, we all had dinner separately and I head back to my room. She stands in my door frame and starts telling me about this “slimming tea” her friend started selling and how her other friends swear by it. She points out that she only wants the best for me, I can finally wear nice clothes, and that I don’t have to look so disgusting anymore.

I happen to have already heard about this particular product already and I know it’s filled with sugar, it’s sold as a miracle product and isn’t approved by the FDA. I tell her this and I, initially, say no politely. She goes on while still standing in my door frame about how I don’t know anything, and I probably only think I’m better than her friends if it’s worked on them and not on me.

I tell her it may be a placebo effect for her friends, and that I’ve read negative testimonials about it already and say no again. She starts shouting at me, telling me I think too highly of myself since I’m in premed, I don’t respect her and I should just be ashamed of how fat my father has made me. Getting annoyed, I tell her that “You’ve offered to buy me a product, and I’ve said no. If you don’t accept that I have a choice to say no, then you’re the one disrespecting me.”

Silence while she glares at me, thinking of a reply. She goes on a spiel about events from years ago or recent past, citing that I go out of my way to be a problem child. Getting hospitalized for dengue, my expensive education, taking contraceptive pills. Her gas lighting begins as she retells these three stories in a different way—which I might talk about in future posts—and being tired I tell her to stop talking since the conversation has become unnecessary.

She motions to leave and I immediately get up to close the door, she sees this and she turns and stops the door from closing. Her nostrils flare as she starts shouting about how we’re not done talking. Jesus I ask her how we’re not done seeing as she’s already walking away. She tells me she can walk around however she likes since it’s her house. “Alright,” I say, “you’ve come here to offer me this tea, and I’ve already said no. None of what followed after was necessary, so why are we still talking? Can I just be alone in my room already?”

She tells me again that it’s her house and if she wants to stand in my door frame, she can. I say okay, “I’ll go somewhere else then.” She follows me as I walk to the kitchen and sits herself on one of the chairs, all the while glaring at me. I ask her why she’s followed me, she again tells me she can do what she wants. I tell her I’ll go back into my room if she wants to stay in the kitchen too and as I’m closing the door to my room she shouts from across the house that I’m forbidden to close the door because it’s her door, her doorknob, her house, and her rules.

This whole event having already lasted the larger part of two hours, I close and lock the door anyway. She shouts about my being an ingrate and I can hear her going into her purse to find the keys to my room. I push the bed against the door so she couldn’t open it, I put my headphones on and start listening to punk rock—which I didn’t use to like until I realized it could drown her out—and then attempted to go to sleep. I can hear her in between songs; she’s going on and on about how she only wants the best for me and that I don’t know how to be grateful. I turn up the volume, chat some friends about this, and then eventually fall asleep.

This Monday morning when I woke up, I prepared to go to the campus to get my paperwork for enrollment ready. She tells me that since I don’t want what’s good for me she isn’t going to give me any allowance. She tells me to figure out how to get enrolled by myself unless I realize that I “should give her the respect due her” given she’s my mother. Being financially dependent and somewhat helpless—I’m sure she loves this—I’ve been stuck at the house all day.

In conclusion: I started writing this draft in anger, but I’ve calmed down already. I’ve been rewriting this over and over for a few hours now. It’s still sloppy and poorly written, but I think it captures how I feel at the moment and I’m grateful for the release. Thanks for reading.

Honestly, I don’t know what to feel anymore.
I think I may be depressed, but then again I may just happen to be sad like the many times in the past that I’ve confused depression and fleeting moments of sadness.

I’d like to say all of what I feel here on this blog, but sadly, I realize I no longer have the skill or capacity to write like that anymore—many times I doubt I ever really had any skill and I may have most likely been fooling myself.

I’ll lay down what I have in my head in the moment, and maybe I’ll delete or edit this later on.
I’m about to take on my fifth year of BS Biology at the University of the Philippines, or at least I’m supposed to. You see, as of writing this, I’m currently on dismissal status from the university I had dreamed of graduating from since I was younger. I know all the mistakes I made during my four years, and I understand that I am completely at fault for the situation I now find myself in. It’s too painful to even begin to retell all that now—maybe in another post, or maybe never—so I’ll stick to what doesn’t hurt as much to tell.

I’m in the process of doing my paperwork for transferring to another university. Amidst all this, I find myself alone with my thoughts again. I suddenly remember all the “I should have”s, the “Might have been”s, and the “What if”s. I definitely should have been a much better student, I could have been if I tried harder. What’s the point now, anyway? I’m going to another school. I guess regret really does hit you hard when it’s too late.

I’m ranting, I’m sorry.
Thank you for reading this, but for now, this is all I will let myself think about. I’ll probably start crying if I write any more, so I’ll stop here.
I’m sorry if the post is a bit short, even after I’ve been gone so long.

I haven’t written in a long while, and it feels a bit novel to be back here. I’m here mostly to rant, and maybe attempt to let off some steam.

See, I only really ever write when I feel an excess of emotion. I don’t remember when it was I last like this, but I know it’s been a while. Two years ago is a safe bet.

I’ve somehow recently gotten this suffocating feeling. They say it’d feel better if I told someone, but I don’t feel like there’s anyone I can really talk to about it either. I’ve tried explaining it to myself, but even I know I don’t make any sense. I’ve attempted to tell loved ones, but I don’t say the right words and mostly we’ll end up fighting.

Sometimes I wonder if everybody else’s life would be better if I didn’t have to be in it. Other times, I like to blame everyone else for how I feel. I can’t put to words exactly how I feel, but if I were to nominate one word close enough it would be confused.

I’ve pushed people away, and there’s always a limit to how much people can stand before they start to realize how disheartening I can be at times. I don’t really know if any of you will read this, but I want you to know I am sorry. Truly, I am.

It’s a word from my vernacular. I guess you could say the root word is mingaw and even that doesn’t have an exact translation in English, but quiet is close enough.

There isn’t any easy way to describe it. It’s sort of the way you feel when it’s been some time since you last saw someone and you suddenly realize you’re looking for their presence. Most translations say it’s “I miss you.” It doesn’t mean you miss that person entirely, though. It isn’t happy or sad, it’s neutral. It’s just that moment you give in to the fact that they’re not with you anymore. Simple.

I don’t get what’s happening—I feel like a blur. I’m no longer part of anything, more so really, I no longer want to be part of anything. I think I’m losing myself, or at least the sense of myself. It’s like I’ve lost purpose.

What do your emotions compensate for in the absence of anger? Is it pain? Is it really? Or is it just that—an absence? Isn’t that all the more frightening than pain—losing the ability to feel?

It is so surreal—didn’t realize it felt this enlivening to die on the inside. I didn’t realize I could die and yet still stand to breathe—to pretend to live.

What is it about—this whole thing? What is it about?

I know I remember saying that the human race was put here only to fit the purpose of existing. I remember telling myself I could deal with that—but I don’t want to just exist. I want to live.

And it is so depressing realizing that all I will ever come to have to call a legacy was the fact that I existed. That isn’t much. Oblivion, my friend.

What is the point? I give up being the happy person. I’ll be what my baser self tells me to be. I’m done being on the emotional and moral high ground. I’m done being a better person for other people. I want to be left alone to be what we were all supposed to be—mediocre.